


Valentine Storytime (with the White Wolf)

by dottieapple



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes telling stories, Bucky Barnes' Wakandan Goat Farm, Fluff, Gen, Grandpas Who Like Jazz, Original Librarian Character, Soft Bucky, Valentine's Day, Very brief mentions of other Marvel characters, Wakandan villages have libraries because they're awesome, kids being kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 05:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17843726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottieapple/pseuds/dottieapple
Summary: "Every day he wakes up, there is a new challenge. It started with figuring out how to care for a few goats with only one arm. It includes scribbling down memories when they strike, a scrambled effort to catch them before they float away. Most days, it's a unique challenge of dealing with the newest demon screaming in his mind.But this day? The challenge is entertaining a dozen-plus Wakandan kids."





	Valentine Storytime (with the White Wolf)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a fluffy tale of Bucky Barnes in recovery: upon a therapist's suggestion, Bucky is trying to involve himself more in the community around him. Since he's a big book nerd who is beloved by the local children, Bucky's new acquaintance who runs the village library sets him up as a storytime reader. He's not great at the voices, but it's making him happy. But what happens on Valentine's Day with a bunch of cupcake-sugar-high youngsters?
> 
>  
> 
> (A/N: un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine, I really just wanted to put this out there.)

Every day he wakes up, there is a new challenge. It started with figuring out how to care for a few goats with only one arm. It includes scribbling down memories when they strike, a scrambled effort to catch them before they float away. Most days, it's a unique challenge of dealing with the newest demon screaming in his mind.    
  
But this day? The challenge is entertaining a dozen-plus Wakandan kids. 

They are loud, squirmy,  and prone to asking a lot of questions.  __ A lot. Of. Questions.   
  
N'koje, the village librarian, looks on in amusement and sympathy as Bucky peruses the pile of storybooks he’d set aside for the day. “It is a special day, Bucky,” says N’koje. “Valentine’s Day.”

“Huh,” Bucky responds, deep in thought. “Guess I didn’t realize it was February already.” 

“The children have been looking forward to today. They are having cakes right now.” N’koje gestured toward the shaded courtyard where the children and families came to gather once a month. “Many of them told me they like White Wolf visits the best, even better than when Princess Shuri comes to read stories.” 

Bucky laughs hoarsely, only half in humor. “No pressure on me then.” He looks at the couple of storybook titles that sound appealing and hands them to N’koje. 

“These are good choices,” he beams, pushing up his black-framed glasses and straightening his tunic, an ornate red and gold garment of traditional Wakandan printed cloth. N’koje, a friendly man with a rounded face and a dry sense of humor, runs the village library three days a week. He and Bucky have built up a rapport after one of Bucky’s therapists recommended he get out into his community. 

When Bucky came to the library to pick up yet another volume of Asimov short stories, he told his favorite librarian about his need to find community projects beyond goat farming. N’koje decided the always-curious children of the village would love it if the White Wolf could be their friend. “They are always asking what you like to read,” N’koje said. “I tell them  _ space stories _ , they ask me why not books about animals? How many Wankandan folk tales do you know? How many stories of the American west have these children not heard?” It was easy for Bucky to pick up what N’koje was putting down. He also offered to sweeten the deal by letting Bucky borrow a record player and jazz records from his personal stash. How could Bucky say no to that?  _ Real 45s, for gods’ sake! _

“You said they were having...cakes.” Bucky swallows, hearing the cacophony of excited small voices just around the corner. He’s unsure he prepared mentally for a spritely crowd  of mostly 3-to-6-year-olds hyped up on Valentine’s baked goods. 

“Do not worry, Bucky,” N’koje urges him foward. “We told them they have to wait until after the story to eat any candy.” 

Bucky sighs audibly. His back hurts from too much labor. His hair keeps falling into his eyes in a way he is not happy about. But these kids adore him. The show must go on. It’s Valentine’s Day. 

An intrusive thought shimmers at the edge of Bucky’s memory. His hand. His flesh-and-blood left hand, much smaller, and sweaty and clutching at something in his worn-out coat pocket.  _ Paper _ , he thinks.  _ A note? Was he giving someone a Valentine, long ago?  _

Distraction comes as three or four children come running up unannounced to hug Bucky’s legs. The memory stops. The children giggle and beam up at him, their expectant little faces full of joy. N’koje says something that sounds encouraging in Xhosa, and the kids scamper back to their individual seat cushions on the floor. A gentle smile breaks out on Bucky’s face as he sits in the chair provided for him. “Hi everyone!” he greets, almost as charming as he could have been 80 years ago. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” the little ones parrot back in their perfect Wakandan-accented English.

“Mister White Wolf,” asks one small boy, “are we going to learn about space today? I liked that story last time, with the girl and the purple dragon. And that other book about Mars!”   
  
“They don’t have Valentine’s Day on Mars,” comes a shy, squeaky voice from the audience. Bucky wonders if he’s the only one who heard it, courtesy of his serum-enhanced hearing, because no other child says anything about it.

A small girl stands up from where she is seated and keeps looking around the room, her brow furrowing more each second. She is very young, still a little wobbly on her feet, the tiny crease in her forehead reminding Bucky of Steve. Another girl, who Bucky recognizes from last month, gently tugs the smaller girl, presumably a younger sister, back down onto her sitting mat. “Goat?” asks the little girl very quietly as her o lder sister hushes her and points to Bucky.

“Well, friends, it’s Valentine’s Day, so today I thought we’d read some stories about…” Bucky uses his best leading tone to get them to guess, leaning forward at his audience.

“Cake?”

“Hearts!”

“Arrows!”

“Goat,” sniffles the tiny girl.

A boy, probably about 5 or 6, shoots his hand up into the air and waves it around. Even though everyone else is yelling out answers, Bucky points to him. “Looooooooove,” says the boy, who’s now up on his knees, swishing his hips back and forth in a silly dance. 

“Aces!” Bucky declares. “That’s right, today we’re going to talk about love.” 

“Ewww,” a few boys whine out together. 

“Love is gross,” the bravest, most outspoken of the group says, “because girls have cooties.” 

Bucky holds the books a little bit tighter as he wills himself to not smile at the definitive way the boy had just said “cooties” in his Wakandan accent. He imagines a small T’challa saying the word and an even smaller Shuri mocking him.

“Boys are dumb, and I do not like them anyway,” the older sister of the smallest girl claps back. “I don’t want to find and marry a prince. I want to grow up and join the Dora Milaje.” 

“Well it’s funny you should mention princes, because today I actually have a book about a  _ princess _ who has to  _ slay a dragon _ to win love.” He opens the slim hardback book and begins to tell the children the tale of the Paper Bag Princess. The children quiet down, and Bucky gets their rapt attention. He tries to do some voices even though his throat is raw from some...unpleasant dreams the night before. He’s never been good at accents, so when he tries to make the dragon sound British, the children giggle, delighted. Peggy Carter and Monty Falsworth are probably rolling in their graves.

Then again, Bucky can see this story’s princess being a little like Peggy. Maybe a little like Steve, too. Doing whatever it takes to save someone they love, regardless of how they look, and damn the consequences. In the story, the princess is in love with the prince, but the fire-breathing dragon burns down her castle, along with all of her princess-ly items and clothes, stealing her prince away. She finds a paper bag, dons it as a dress, and goes about the business of saving her love. She, of course, outwits the dragon and challenges him to various feats. 

One task puts the dragon to sleep, so the princess steals away to rescue her prince--only her prince is an ungrateful little shit who tells her to come back when she looks like a “real” princess. She informs him she _ is _ a real princess and dances away into the sunset to live her life as she pleases, free from uncomfortable, corseted dresses and horrible men.

“So uh,” Bucky smirks, scratching the back of his head after he’s closed the storybook, “I guess that wasn’t a love story in the traditional sense. But learning to love yourself is really important too.” Bucky is sure his therapist would be ecstatic that he’s passing this message on to the younger generation.

“I like that she tricked the dragon to fly until he went to sleep,” the future Dora Milaje recruit bounces in her seat. “He was like _FFFWWHHHOOOSH!_ _ , _ and she was like  _ night night, I win now _ !”

Bucky finishes up storytime with an actual tale of love between friends, a book starring two characters called Elephant and Piggie. The kids love it. White Wolf storytime is a big hit, all over again. The kids go running in all directions to play, to check out books, to get candy. 

Bucky is enjoying one of the last cupcakes when the littlest girl comes running up to him. Her older sister is close behind. She tugs at the end of the long shawl covering his shoulder and looks up at Bucky with big, sad eyes. He’s pretty sure he’s ready to rip his heart out of his chest and hand it to her. She’s so damn precious, can’t be more than three. She fixes her tiny, serious gaze on him and asks, her little eyebrows knitting together, “Goat? Goat here?”

“Mister White Wolf, she thought you were bringing your goats,” the older sister grumbles, apologetic. “Iyana and I ride the transport with our baba from the city to the village on half-days at school, and Baba always stops to let Iyana pet the goats. They are very nice goats, sir, but I like petting cats much better.” 

“That’s all right,” says Bucky, another fuzzy memory reaching toward his consciousness. “What’s your name?” he asks the older girl.

“Kylah,” she answers, a little shy being put on the spot. She looks down at her feet.

“Can I talk to Iyana for a minute? If that’s all right with you, Kylah.” She nods. Bucky reaches out toward Iyana, his hand suddenly seeming far too large to be touching someone so small and delicate. “Hey sweetheart,” he coos as the small girl shuffles forward, ultimately grabbing his hand with both of hers and then latching onto his bent leg. “You know you can come by the farm anytime you want if the goats are outside. You tell your Baba the White Wolf invited you and Kylah to come play with the babies. Do you like babies?”

The tiny girl’s eyes glow with excitement as she nods, almost shoving her fist in her mouth. 

“I’ll show you and your big sister how to feed them with a bottle, would you like that?” Iyana smiles, and Bucky asks her, “Did your Baba bring you here today?” She nods again, and Bucky gets up slowly, depositing the books on his chair. He reaches down and scoops Iyana up from the ground against his hip. She’s still being shy but huffs out a little squeak of happiness. 

“Wow, you’re really strong,” says Kylah, walking along beside them. “I can barely lift Iyana with  _ two _ arms!”

The memory is still clinging in Bucky’s mind. He looks at Kylah and says, “My sister was really little like this once. I think I was a little bigger than you. But she was like carrying a bucket of bricks! I had to pick her up different ways. You ever tried slinging her on your back?”

The memory, it’s all there, like it was yesterday, and Bucky without his trusty notebook.

 

_ Becca’s short pigtails bobbing up and down as she squealed to high heaven with delight, Winnifred’s voice firm but loving, “James, love, if you’re going to horse around with your sister like that, take it outside.”  _

_ He’d been on his back with his knees in the air, Becca balanced on them, her pudgy little hands in his. “Airplane!” he’d exclaimed to her as he rocked her back and forth on top of his legs and feet, providing all the sound effects. Becca wanted to play airplane every day for a week after that, and Bucky couldn’t refuse--partially because she would cry if he said no. _

 

Bucky walks the two girls to the chair where their grandfather is reading quietly, a book about World War Two. He bites the inside of his cheek as he has to wonder if the book features him or Steve. As the old man closes the cover, Bucky exhales as he sees it’s an account of the Royal British Navy. 

“Baba!” Kylah exclaims, “the White Wolf wants us to visit the goat farm!” The man has a gruff face and an easy smile that doesn’t seem to match, but he is a kind fellow who asks if he should bring anything in return. 

Something softens in Bucky when he thinks of how this gray-haired old man is younger than him, but maybe not by too much. It’s not something he brings up--of course people get confused when someone who appears to be 30-something insists he’s actually over a hundred years old.

Bucky’s social graces are still coming back to him. Children are easy enough. Adults who are not Steve are a little tougher. Still, Bucky pastes on his charming smile as best he knows how. He raises a friendly, curious eyebrow at the girls’ grandfather, asking, “Do you like jazz records?” The man returns the grin.

Bucky tells the girls Happy Valentine’s Day again, and they both give him a big hug.    
  
“You see, Iyana, Valentine’s Day is all about all kinds of love, right Baba?” Bucky hears Kylah blurt out as the family walks away.    
  
“And cake!” exclaims Iyana.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! There is a related sequel on the way which fleshes out the tale of Bucky's Valentine's Day memory that he can't quite reach in this story. Kudos and Comments are my food: please make sure I don't go hungry.
> 
> If you like me, follow me on Twitter! @dottieapplesez 
> 
> xo,  
> Dot


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